Mann to Mann
by ThePoetsDreamed
Summary: Pre "Son of Mann" fic- my take on what could happen when Marshall's father shows up in Albuquerque. Light M&M, some language.
1. Mann About Town

**Author's Note: **This is my first ever fanfic and my first time using the site, so I have no idea what I'm doing and no beta reader- So all mistakes are mine. Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples, I'm just using them shamelessly. I hope he doesn't mind. Reviews and encouragement (or criticism!) greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Mary couldn't help noticing the strange look on Marshall's face as they walked back into the office. He seemed to be taking in the tall stranger in Stan's office with a degree of great trepidation. Mary paused and looked at him as he stood frozen in the doorway. She opened her mouth to ask if he was okay just as the man stepped out of the office and gave Marshall a thorough once over.

"What are you doing here?" Marshall asked the man, confusion and apprehension both evident in his voice.

"Nice to see you too, son," the man responded, trying, but failing, to sound hurt.

Mary turned her attention to the man for the first time, taking in his appearance. He was in his late sixties, with steel grey hair, tall and thin, much like her partner. His piercing blue eyes and the line of his nose were both strangely familiar. Mary looked back at Marshall for comparison. There was definitely a family resemblance. This had to be Marshall's father.

Marshall seemed to be having a hard time deciding what to say, which was, to say the least, unusual for him. She took in his uneasy stance and wondered if Marshall and his dad were as close as she'd always believed. When she'd first met Marshall, she'd guessed that he'd come from the perfect family and Marshall had never corrected her, but she could sense her partner's nervousness now and wondered if perhaps he'd kept something from her. Finally, Marshall breached the space between himself and the older man, giving his father a tentative hug, and spoke.

"Sorry, Dad, I just wasn't expecting you. What brings you to town?"

"We tracked a couple of fugitives to Ruidoso and I got called in as part of the task force. Figured I'd stop by and see how my boy was doing, check in with Stan. I haven't seen him since he moved out here, you know."

Marshall seemed to notice Mary again for the first time since the exchange began and looked over at her, then back at his father.

"Oh, dad. This is my partner, Mary," he said, waving a hand in her direction. The older man took a sizeable step towards her, extending his hand.

"Mary, this is my dad…"

"Seth Mann," the older man interrupted. "Pleasure to meet you. Marshall was right, you're a knockout." Mary blushed slightly at the compliment, then looked over at Marshall questioningly. He wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Thanks," Mary said, returning her gaze to Seth. "It's great to meet you, too. Marshall tells me you're in Fugitive Apprehension?"

"Guilty." Seth said, with a smile.

"I was in the New Jersey office before I came to work here."

"Yeah, I think Marshall mentioned that when you first started working together."

"Oh, really? What else has Marshall said?" Mary asked, turning a mischievous grin toward Marshall. She noticed with pleasure that he colored slightly.

"Oh, don't worry. He's kept all the details private." Mary looked a bit taken aback, suddenly suspicious of his phrasing.

"What details?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at Marshall.

"You know, about what you two do on the job." Seth explained. Mary relaxed.

"Oh, right. So, Mr. Mann…"

"Seth, please."

"Seth, Marshall and I were about to get some lunch. Would you care to join us?" Mary ignored the pleading look on her partner's face, remembering how he'd thrown her to the wolves when Jinx had shown up in New Mexico.

"I've got a couple of hours before I have to be anywhere. Why not?" he said. Marshall visibly deflated as he watched Seth walk over to his desk. He picked up one of Marshall's more intricate origami creations and looked over at his son questioningly.

"What the sam hill is this?"

"It's an origami butterfly."

"Why the hell is there a paper butterfly on your desk?"

"I'm taking a class in origami. It's a Japanese art form, Dad," Marshall replied, defensively.

Seth sighed audibly. "You and your art classes. Next you'll be taking Intro to Interior Decorating."

"He already took that one." Mary said, under her breath, earning a death glare from Marshall. Seth seemed not to hear.

"I guess you get this artsy-fartsy nonsense from your mother's side of the family. God knows the Mann's aren't the type." Marshall looked down at his desk, still oddly speechless.

"Well, I'm starving," Mary said, breaking the silence. "How about that lunch?"

"Sounds good to me." Seth said, smiling at Mary. "If Michelangelo here promises not to fold my napkin into a flower."

Mary could see the poorly disguised anger all over Marshall's face and patted his hand amicably. Apparently his family life wasn't as rosy as he'd led her to believe.

Once they were in the parking deck, Mary headed for the blue Mustang she had, as Peter predicted, fallen in love with. Marshall willingly folded himself into the passenger seat. She was pretty sure Marshall loved her new car as much as she did. Seth decided to take his own vehicle in case he needed to leave suddenly, leaving them free to discuss what had just transpired in the office. Once they were underway, Mary glanced over at Marshall, who had barely spoken.

"So, your dad…"

"He's very 'old guard.' I think the fact that I wasn't a football quarterback in high school has been an endless source of disappointment for him. That and just about everything else I've done."

"Oh, come on. It can't be that bad."

"What you just saw? Much tamer than usual."

"Yeah, but you did become a marshal, right? I mean, it's not like you're a ballet dancer."

"True, but he thinks I took the easy way out. Witsec is, in his opinion, the least 'manly' branch of the marshal's service."

"Total bullshit. You've been shot! Can he make that claim?"

"Four times."

"Damn. Sounds like you picked the right branch to me. So," Mary said slyly, changing the subject, "You think I'm a knockout?" She treated Marshall to an impish grin.

"Dad was just being polite."

"Oh, " Mary said, deflating slightly. "So you don't." She tried to hide her disappointment, but Marshall sensed that she was stung by his response.

Sometimes, he thought to himself, she could be so unpredictable- she could beat up drug dealers and outshoot gangsters, all while looking better than anyone doing those things had any right to, but she still occasionally needed to hear she was pretty.

"I never said that," he said, giving her a slow smile. She smiled back as he set his jaw for what was sure to be a trying lunch hour.


	2. Out to Lunch

**Author's Note: I'm attempting to finish this before the show airs. I don't know how long it's going to be yet, but I'm writing pretty fast, so if there are any glaringly obvious mistakes, I apologize. Reviews, suggestions, criticism, complaints, etc. all appreciated!**

Marshall's father had chosen his least favorite restaurant, though he knew there was no way his dad could've known that. Mary loved the place, so he took comfort in the fact that at least one of them was happy. Though she'd bristled at Seth's constant criticism of Marshall, he hadn't said anything to Marshall Mary hadn't said herself at one point or another. Marshall pointed this fact out when extracting a promise from her not to pick a fight with his father. She'd reluctantly agreed.

Since they'd sat down, Seth had managed to rib him about letting Mary drive (he could tell that annoyed Mary as much as himself), chastised him about not being a gentleman and pulling out Mary's chair for her, and made fun of his dinner selection ("A salad? What kind of man eats salad when there's steak to be had?") Marshall's usual calm demeanor was faltering. Seth's current line of criticism involved Marshall's love life. Marshall took some comfort in the fact that his dad had at least waited until Mary had excused herself to go to the restroom before he began grilling his sonl on when he planned to settle down.

"Your mother wants more grandkids, and she'd love to see you with a nice girl. Personally," Seth said as an afterthought, "I'd be happy to see you with any , girl."

"I don't know any nice girls, Dad," Marshall said, unwilling to explain his feelings for Mary to his father, who'd want to know why he hadn't told her how he felt.

She stepped into his line of sight, as though answering his thoughts. His father elbowed him slightly, and raised his eyebrows at Mary.  
"Sometimes, nice is overrated," he said with a lecherous grin while Mary was still out of earshot. Marshall was searching for a response that wouldn't involve seriously injuring his father when

Mary, apparently sensing her partner's distress, began questioning his father. "So, Marshall tells me his mother was originally from Albuquerque," Mary said. This seemed to distract Seth immediately.

"Yeah. After forty-five years of marriage, I still remember the day I met her like it was yesterday. It was her first day in town. God, she was a firecracker… total ball buster, but beautiful. And smart- smarter than I've ever been. She hated me to begin with, and I wasn't too wild about her, to be honest. Before I knew it, though, I was crazy about her."

Mary didn't miss the light in his eyes as he discussed his wife. She could tell, in spite of the way he'd been treating Marshall, that Seth had a softer side, and genuinely loved his wife. It was the kind of love she'd been searching for herself, the kind she wasn't sure existed. Even Marshall seemed affected by the change in his father.

"How did you meet?" Mary asked, genuinely curious now.

Before he could respond, Seth's phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, his face changing. "I'd better take this. Looks like business." Mary nodded, watching the man step away from the table. A few moments later, he returned. "Looks like one of our guys is on the move. We're gonna have to go ahead with the take down."

Marshall's father reached down and grabbed the bill. Marshall opened his mouth to protest, but his father held up his hand. "I'll take care of this," he said, in a tone that allowed for no argument.

Marshall nodded, and Mary smiled. "Thanks, Seth."  
"My pleasure. And Marshall, if you don't mind, I'll set up camp in your spare room tonight. The other guys on the task force are God awful snorers and I could use a decent night's sleep."

"No problem, dad." He said with forced politeness.

"Good. Oh, and think about what I said," he said, glancing at Mary. As soon as he'd walked away, Mary looked at Marshall questioningly.

"What the hell was that all about?" she asked.

"You don't want to know."

"I definitely want to know now."

"Apparently, I should've had five or six children by now. You know, to show my virility and prove my worth as a man."

"Well, how else would you do it?" she asked with a smirk. Marshall let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Come on," she said, standing up. "We need to check in with Mel. Something about him has me worried."

"I'm sure it's just him, and not that you have trust issues."

"Nah, that can't be it." 


	3. Johnny Come Lately

**Author's Note: Hopefully I've somewhat figured out how formatting works now. My chapters seems to be getting shorter, but I'm ending them where it feels natural. I hope it doesn't seem too choppy. Anyway, thanks for reading, and for your reviews, and I hope I don't disappoint!**

The two rode in companionable silence until they reached the apartment of their latest witness, a former militia member who'd agreed to testify against his buddies after they'd blown up an abortion clinic, killing six people. Mel's creepy idealism had set off Mary's internal warning system on more than one occasion. She'd been checking in with him twice a week since he'd been moved to Albuquerque a month ago. Though he seemed, on the surface, to be keeping his nose clean, Mary still had reservations about him.

As they were headed down the hall to Mel Masters', nee Modelo's apartment, a compact, angry looking young man with an unkempt mustache opened the door and stepped out. He brushed past the two inspectors without a glance, keeping his head down. Mary made a mental note of his description, immediately sensing possible danger. Marshall's body tensed as well as he moved his hand to his gun and soundlessly made to follow the man down the hall. Mary knocked on the apartment door urgently. Mel opened it immediately, apparently having expected anyone but her on the other side.

"Mary!" he said, sounding taken aback. "So good to see you again." Hearing the greeting, Marshall turned around and let his hand fall away from his gun.

Mary nodded down the hall. "Who the hell was that?"

"Oh. Just someone I work with. He was helping me set up my computer. I've never been good with them," Mel responded, noncommittally.

"Uh huh." Mary said. "He works with you at Shoe World?"

"Yeah."

"What's his name?"

"Johnny Steele."

"Seriously? Sounds like he missed his true calling as a porn star." Mary responded with a smile. Marshall laughed.

"Huh?" Mel asked, apparently not getting the joke.

"Never mind. How's everything else going?"

As soon as Mel had answered all their questions to Mary's satisfaction, she and Marshall headed back to the Sunshine Building to tackle some paperwork. About a half hour after they'd returned, Mary spoke up. "So, I ran a background check on Mel's pal Johnny Steele."

"You gonna tell me he's in show business after all?" Marshall asked sarcastically.

"More like the arms buying business. Johnny was arrested eight years ago with a crate of machine guns. Made parole six months ago. Looks like our Mel is associating with a known felon."

"Maybe Mel doesn't know about his past. Comparing criminal records isn't exactly your typical interoffice banter."

"Highly unlikely. Looks like Johnny Appleseed has ties to a homegrown militia organization based right here in good old Albuquerque."

"And people say there's nothing to do here." Marshall quipped, before adding "What was the name of that militia group?"

"The New Mexico Freedom Corps, according to his file," she responded. "Why?"

Marshall fiddled with his computer keyboard for a moment before responding. "A lot of these paramilitary groups are recruiting online now- looks like the New Mexico Freedom Corps is one of them. The latest posting on their message board is for a meeting. Tonight. "

Mary walked over to look at the screen over Marshall's shoulder. "And look at this," he said, pointing at the screen. "Someone with the screen name 'BlackMel' says he'll be there."

"Looks like we'll be there too. Do you think we should bring doughnuts?" Mary asked. Marshall ignored her comment, and launched into his own spiel.

"You know, the first militias were government sanctioned organizations for the defense of the country. They started as far back as the late 1700s. It wasn't until the late 20th century that miltia groups became the stomping grounds of paranoid conspiracy theorists and anarchists. We need to keep a low profile at that meeting. These organizations are built on mistrust- of anyone who doesn't follow or fit in with their ideals. They're some of the most suspicious people in the country and don't take kindly to outsiders, particularly ones who work for the government."

"So I shouldn't wear my Marshal of the Year t-shirt? Damn, now I have to do laundry."

"Well, you better hurry up. The meeting starts in two hours."  
e workH


	4. Meeting and Greeting

**Author's Note: Sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter up- I wasn't 100% sure what to do with it, and after tonight's God awful Faber-ful episode, my heart isn't really in it, but since there's apparently never going to be any REAL Mary/Marshall interaction, I'm just going to have to be satisfied with what I can make up. *sigh* I've also fixed some of the errors in the previous chapters, so hopefully they'll be more readable. Love the reviews, can't wait to see what everyone thinks of this chapter. Enjoy!**

The address listed for the meeting led to a series of abandoned warehouses which, according to county records, were now owned by the militia group. Mary and Marshall had taken the SUV, hoping it would prove less conspicuous than either of their personal vehicles, but the few cars now in the dirt lot were mostly older model pick-ups, many of which apparently hadn't been washed since they were new. Though the New Mexico Freedom Corps had no attributable crimes to their record, there was certainly evidence that the group was stockpiling weapons, which was never a good sign. Marshall had finally convinced Mary that the group was, in all probability, highly dangerous, and that bursting into the meeting with guns blazing was liable to get them both killed. Instead, they were watching the door of the smallest building, which already housed a small group of individuals, from the relative safety of the SUV. They'd timed their arrival to blend in as much as possible- a few of the most devoted had already arrived, but most of the members wouldn't be there for another ten minutes. After a cursory scan of the parking lot to make sure Mel hadn't already arrived, Marshall deftly angled the SUV between the two largest pick-ups, hoping to reduce their possibility of being spotted, then killed the engine.

"Now what?" Mary asked, apparently not thrilled with the possibility of a long wait.

"We wait for Mel to show up and hopefully figure out a way to keep him from going in without drawing too much attention to ourselves."

After several minutes in the darkness of the SUV, Mary broke the silence. "So, what's the deal with your dad? I thought you had a great relationship with your family."

"I do. It's just that… My dad can be difficult. He means well, he's just always tempered his affection with criticism. Lots of criticism."

"Tough love."

"You know it well," he said, sarcastically, smiling over at Mary. She nodded once, returning the smile.

"So, what's your mom like?"

"You'd like her. She's tough. I've seen her threaten men twice her size without batting an eyelash, but with me and my brothers? She was always gentle. And she's never been afraid to stand up to my father. I think it's one of the things he loves about her."

"Sounds nice," Mary said, wistfully.

"It is, mostly. Sometimes Dad just gets under my skin."

"Well, it could be worse. Your dad could be a fugitive bank robber," Mary said, sardonically.

"Touché."

Mary reached over and squeezed Marshall's hand. He looked up, surprised at the contact, and she smiled at him tenderly. Their eyes locked and lingered for a moment before Mary let go of his hand and pointed out the window. "Does that look like Mel's car?"

Marshall snapped to awareness as his eyes spotted the mid-80s model Chevy El Camino. "I hope there's not another one of those things still running anywhere. How do you want to play this?"

"Well, there's no one else in the parking lot right now. Maybe we can take care of this before any of his pals show up and cause trouble."

Marshall nodded, and got out of the car, Mary following suit. They walked quietly up to the vehicle just as their witness was stepping opening his car door. "Hey, Mel!" Mary said, with false enthusiasm. "Fancy seeing you here! Marshall and I were just talking about you!"

Mel started when Mary called his name, then relaxed slightly. "Hi, Mary. I didn't know you were a member of the Albuquerque Chess League," he said, hesitantly.

"Try again, numbnuts. Aside from the fact that most of the people in that building have probably never even seen a chess board, we know exactly what kind of meeting this is. Do you have a death wish?"

"Death wish? I'm just practicing my right to freedom of assembly. Or did I sign that away when I entered witness protection?" Mel said, obstinately.

"Mel, you got into this program by ratting out the higher-ups in an organization just like that one. Don't think your new friends don't hear about what goes on in other groups like theirs. It's only a matter of time before word gets around that a guy with terrible taste in cars sold a bunch of his buddies back in Missouri upriver. If anyone in that room has even an inkling that you might be a threat to them, you are no longer safe, and it is my job to keep you safe. Not to mention half the people in that room are convicted felons which, per your signed MOU, you are not to associate with. Now, how long have you been going to these meetings?" 

"This is the first one." Mary gave him a wilting look. "I swear," he said, pleadingly.

Mary and Marshall shared a look before Marshall spoke up. "Get back in your car and go back to your apartment. If you have any further involvement with this group, you risk prosecution for violating the terms of your Witsec agreement. As it is, you may have to be relocated."

"Come on, don't do that. I promise I'll stay away from them. I'm starting to like it here."

"Then you'd better start taking this seriously. If I were you, I'd try to keep my friendship with Johnny Steele as casual as possible. Now go." Mary said, firmly, pointing to his car door. He got in and took off. The two marshals headed to their own vehicle, missing the pinpoint of a cigarette in the darkness and the silhouette partially concealed in the shadow of the smallest building.


	5. Sister Golden Hair

As soon as they'd pulled into the lot of the Sunshine Building, Mary got out and headed for her Mustang. Marshall looked after her, waiting.

"You start the threat assessment," she called over her shoulder, "I'm going to make sure Mel gets home. And stays there."

"Sure you don't want company?"

"I'll be fine."

"Be careful," he called after her.

Mary looked back and saluted, then got in the car.

She'd been sitting outside Mel's apartment for an hour when her phone rang. She didn't recognize the number, but noticed that it had an Albuquerque area code. She answered, praying it wasn't trouble with another witness.

"Hey, where are you?" The familiar voice on the other end asked.

"I'm at work, Squish. Where are you?"

"I'm at home, but no one's here and I lost my keys." Mary rolled her eyes, thinking she'd have to have the locks changed if keys to her house were floating around somewhere unaccounted for. "Can you come let me in?" Brandi asked, interrupting her thoughts.

"I can't right now, Squish. I'm in the middle of something."

"Where's mom? Maybe she can let me in."

"Probably at her apartment," Mary said, listlessly, glancing at the clock.

"Mom has an apartment? What? When did this happen?"

"About a week after you left for… wherever the hell you've been. Haven't you talked to her?"

"I guess not. Did you two fight?"

"No, I think she just wanted to get out on her own. She's been teaching at a ballet studio."

"Wow. I leave for a few months and everyone goes crazy. So, it's just you and Chico now."

"Yeah, we'll talk about that later," Mary said, surprised at the stab of regret she felt. "Go to Mom's and I'll come by when I can get away. Then I want to know where you've been and what you've been doing and if any of it is likely to involve law enforcement in the near or distant future."

"Mary, I wasn't doing anything…"

"We'll talk about it later," Mary said, impatient now.

"Fine. How do I get to Mom's place?"

Mary gave her the address and added, "I'm glad you're home, Squish," before she disconnected.

She watched the apartment building another half-hour before the light in Mel's window went out. She waited to make certain he wasn't leaving before starting her car and heading back to the office. She wasn't surprised to see Marshall still at his desk. She was sure he'd finished the threat assessment long ago, but was no doubt waiting to make sure she was safe before leaving. She smiled to herself, realizing that she knew her partner far too well.

"How was the stakeout?" he asked, looking up at her.

"Exciting. I watched a couple of stray cats making sweet love for awhile, but I was distracted by a drunk guy throwing up in some bushes before the big finish."

"Nice. So Mel's behaving?"

"So far. I stayed until he went to bed. What'd the threat assessment turn up?"

"No one in the New Mexico Freedom Corps has any obvious ties to Missouri. As predicted, a lot of them have criminal records, but it's mostly tame stuff- possession charges, a couple of drunk-and-disorderlies, domestic violence. The usual suspects."

Mary nodded. "So, if Mel manages to successfully fend off Steele, we shouldn't have anything to worry about?"

"Let's hope not."

Mary nodded, satisfied, then began packing up her things. "You headed home?" Marshall asked, hoping she'd be free to referee his dinner with his father. Mary seemed to somewhat distract Seth from Marshall's plethora of perceived shortcomings.

"Jinx's."

Marshall raised an eyebrow at her, knowing she hadn't set foot in her mother's apartment since the day she'd helped her move in.

"Brandi's back in town," she said, in response to his look.

Marshall nodded, knowing there was potentially trouble to deal with. "Call if you need me," he said, for the second time that night, resigning himself to a night of his father's criticism.

"Thanks. You gonna be okay?" Mary asked, realizing Marshall faced family drama of his own.

"Yeah." Marshall said, noncommittally, moving to follow her out. "Maybe he'll be asleep."

Twenty minutes later, she was knocking on the door to her mother's apartment. She was taken aback when a young blonde man opened the door. She glanced at the apartment number, suddenly thinking she had it wrong, when the man smilled at her and said "Mary?" and moved to embrace her.

She stepped back, unclear on what was happening when she saw Brandi at the door behind him, a hand on his shoulder.

"Jimmy, wait. She's not a big hugger," she said.

Mary tried to find a logical explanation for the man's presence as the name Jimmy bounced around her brain. She looked at him again, a strange feeling coming over her.

"Jimmy?"

"Mary, come inside. Let me explain."

Mary was momentarily overcome as she made the connection. Her mind drifted back to a Polaroid of her sixth birthday, a blonde man in a leather jacket holding her hand. She looked back at the young man in front of her.

Jimmy looked just like his father.


	6. Family Ties

**Author's Note: This chapter's pretty dialogue heavy. I hope I've made it clear who's talking to whom without going overboard with the "he said, she saids." Reviews, as always, greatly appreciated, and once again, thanks for reading!**

Mary was too stunned to move. After several moments, she regained her composure enough to step uneasily into her mother's cramped apartment, never taking her eyes off the young man in front of her. Though Brandi hadn't yet introduced him, she could tell from Mary's face that she knew who he was.

"Squish…" was all Mary could get out. Brandi studied her sister, who looked as though a slight breeze would knock her over. She took her Mary's elbow and led her to the outdated couch her mother had procured at a second-hand shop not long after moving. Mary picked at the threads absentmindedly, unable to decide how to react. Finally, Brandi broke the silence. "Mary, you remember Lauren? Mom said she told you who she really is."

Mary nodded once, very slowly.

"This is her brother, Jimmy. Our brother."

Finally, Jimmy spoke up. "Mary, it's so great to meet you. I can't believe all this time I've had two sisters I never even knew about."

Finally, Mary found her voice. "How did you find Brandi?"

"Lauren was gone for a few days last year and when she came home, she was acting kind of strange, so I snooped through her travel receipts. When I realized she'd gone to Albuquerque and not California, I started asking questions. I thought maybe she'd found dad. When I said so, she told me everything."

"What made you call Brandi?" Mary asked.

Jimmy hedged a moment, unsure of how to answer. Brandi spoke up.

"Jimmy needed my help. He was in trouble, so I helped him."

"You helped him? Is that why you needed $20,000?"

"Peter told you?" Brandi squealed.

"Can you blame him? You don't exactly have a spotless track record. What was the money for? And if it has anything to do with drugs, I swear to God, I'll shoot you both," Mary snapped, narrowing her eyes at Brandi.

"No, nothing like that," Brandi answered quickly.

"I just made some bad bets," said Jimmy.

"Bets? Of all our father's habits, you had to pick that one?"

"What? My father never gambled."

Mary looked at him as though he'd grown a second head, then turned her attention to Brandi. "And how on earth do you propose to pay your boyfriend back for this?"

Before Brandi could respond, Jimmy said "I'll pay it all back. With interest. Just as soon as I can find a job."

"So, you gamble away $20,000 and then decide to call your new family to get you out of hoc? Is that how you usually get to know new people? 'Hey, nice to meet you. Can I borrow twenty grand'"

"I didn't have anyone else to turn to, I swear. The man I owed was threatening to kill my family if I didn't get him the money. Lauren's in college, so she couldn't help me. Our sister Melissa just had a baby, and my mom's barely been able to pay the mortgage since Dad disappeared."

"He's our brother, Mary. I wanted to help my family, just like you've always done. To be the kind of person you can be proud to call your sister," Brandi said, her tone softened.

"Oh, Squish…" Mary said, wistfully. "I just wish you'd talked to me."

"I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, you did," Mary said, suddenly realizing someone was missing. "Where's Mom?"

"She went to get a pizza. We haven't eaten since we left Miami and all she had in the house was peanut butter and canned tuna."

"Oh, thank God." Mary said, as the thought of food calmed her slightly. "I'm starving. We can eat while we try to figure out how the hell to get Peter his money back."

"Maybe Peter can give Jimmy a job!" Brandi said, as though she'd just had the most ingenious idea ever.

"Not sure that worked so well the last time." Mary muttered.

"What? What's that supposed to mean? Did Chico quit? Peter didn't fire him, did he?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what?"

Mercifully, Jinx walked through the door with two large pizzas before Mary could respond, and, for the moment, distracted Brandi from her uncomfortable line of questioning. Mary sent up a quick prayer of thanks.

As the foursome ate, Mary was mostly silent as her new sibling regaled them with stories from his childhood, but she couldn't help the wave of sadness that followed Jimmy's story about late-night trips for ice cream. Overcome, suddenly, Mary excused herself offering only "I have an early day tomorrow" in way of explanation before leaving as quickly as she could. She wanted so badly to call Marshall, but she knew he was dealing with his own brand of familial torture, so she made her way home, managing to keep her tears in check until she was veiled in the quiet darkness of her bedroom.

Marshall's evening was even worse than he'd expected. His father found fault with almost everything, including his "feminine" décor, what he'd stocked in the refrigerator, how he'd prepared their meal. Marshall bore it all in much the way he'd done since his teenage years, when the rift between his father and himself had become a canyon. In spite of their differences, Marshall had always, to some degree, idolized his father. For years, he'd tried to live up to the man's standards, but he eventually realized it would never be enough, and simply stopped trying. He was his mother's son. No matter how many hours he spent with his dad at the shooting range, he was just as happy at home reading Shakespeare. Marshall suspected his father had never learned to appreciate the subtlety of the Bard. Or any subtlety, period.

It wasn't until Seth broached the subject of Mary that things began to go badly. "So, I'm sure you spend a lot of time with your partner. Have you two ever…"

"What? No!"

"Why not? She looks like she could be a good time."

"Don't talk about Mary that way," Marshall said through clenched teeth.

"What's the matter son? If she doesn't put lead in your pencil, no woman will. Unless you don't like women."

"Dad, I'm serious…"

"Marshall, I know your mom told you a lot of malarkey about being a gentleman, but let me let you in on a little secret: nice guys finish last. If you don't stop hiding behind your manners and hair gel, you're never gonna get a woman."

Marshall's usually carefully controlled demeanor slipped as he hurled his beer bottle against the opposing wall. He watched it shatter with satisfaction. Later, he would realize that it wasn't the relentless harassment that had finally gotten to him, but that his father had come too close to the truth with his careless comment. He'd been finishing last with Mary for years, as first Raph and now Faber had wormed their way into her life. The realization had almost been too much for him to take.

"What the hell…" Seth started, eyeing Marshall as though he'd lost his mind.

"I'm going to bed. I think we're done talking for tonight," Marshall growled. He left the broken bottle where it lay, his boots crunching through the glass as he made his way out of the room. He wanted so badly to call Mary, but God only knew what new mess Brandi had dragged back for her to sort out. Instead, he shut his light off and seethed in the darkness.


	7. Another Day, Another Dollar

Marshall's morning had taken a surprising turn. He'd mostly managed to avoid Seth, staying holed up in his room until the last possible moment. He was hoping his dad would be gone before he had to leave, but when he opened his bedroom door, he had no such luck. His father was sitting on the couch, staring into space. Marshall was surprised to see no sign of the bottle he'd broken the night before. He looked at his father expectantly.

Finally, Seth spoke. "Look, son. I know I'm tough on you. But to tell you the truth, I just want to see you happy- that's all I've ever wanted. I'd like to see you find the right girl, settle down, maybe have some kids, but if that's not what you want, then it's fine with me. If you want to play the field, or you'd rather be alone- hell, even if you want a boyfriend…"

Here Marshall interrupted. "I'm not gay, Dad," he said, exasperated.

"Oh, thank God," Seth said, with obvious relief, before continuing. "All I'm saying is, I know how it is when you work so closely with someone. That's the only reason I said what I did about your partner. I'm sorry if I stepped on your toes. I just know how happy I've been with your mother all these years, and your Mary reminds me of her. But I know you aren't me."

"Dad…"

"Anyway, I just wanted to say that… that I love you, and whatever makes you happy will make me happy." Here his father stood, overnight bag in hand. "Take care of yourself, son," Seth said, pulling Marshall into a rough hug, before turning to leave.

"Bye, Dad," he called after his father. He watched the man pull away before leaving himself.

When he arrived, Mary was uncharacteristically silent. He suspected that Brandi's sudden reappearance had something to do with her current mood. He only hoped that whatever new wrinkle Mary's sister had undoubtedly ironed into her life was nothing too perilous. "Everything okay?" he asked her, leaning down to refill her coffee mug.

"Yeah, just peachy," Mary muttered sarcastically, shifting her eyes toward Theresa, the funds allocation manager who'd taken up residence in the office. Marshall knew Mary didn't trust her, so he nodded, knowing he wouldn't get the full story until they had a chance to talk alone. Unfortunately, their morning was filled with a mountain of paperwork, and that opportunity didn't come until lunch. Marshall pointed the SUV in the direction of Mary's favorite diner. He'd never particularly cared for it, but he sensed that she needed cheering. Realizing where they were headed, Mary smiled over at him in way of thanks. Marshall met her eyes, then took the opportunity to broach the subject of her distress.

"So, did Brandi bring you back a nice souvenir from Miami?"

"You have no idea…" Mary said, not continuing. Marshall looked over at her. She seemed to be deep in thought.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Remember Lauren?" Mary asked, unnecessarily. She knew he'd remember.

Marshall thought back to Brandi's last run-in with the FBI. Mary had told him about the woman who'd shown up at her house, the woman Jinx had later told her was her sister. Though he'd never met Lauren, he owed the woman a small debt of thanks. In spite of the distress she'd caused Mary, it had landed his partner in his arms, if only for a brief moment of comfort.

"Your supposed half-sister," he said, still remembering that afternoon on the roof.

"Apparently she has a brother. That's where Brandi's been. Fraternizing with this family I never knew I had. God knows, I've got enough family already. More than enough." Mary said, frustration evident in her voice.

"So…"

"So she brought my father's son back here with her. Jimmy. Named after him."

"Do you really believe he's your brother?

"He… He looks just like him, Marshall. Just like Daddy," Mary said, quietly, looking down. He suspected his partner was on the verge of tears. In spite of the overwhelming evidence, he knew Mary had never allowed herself to believe Lauren's claim of kinship was legitimate. The arrival of her new sibling had no doubt forced her to accept that her father had, in fact, had another life after he left her. He reached over and gave Mary's hand a squeeze, then held it gently. He half-expected her to push it away, but she didn't.

"He told us all these stories about how Daddy used to take him fishing, give him piggyback rides, throw birthday parties… I just kept thinking, 'that should've been me,' you know? I was cleaning up my mother's vomit while _my_ father was taking this complete stranger to the state fair." Her voice broke slightly as she continued. "All this time, I thought I was special to him, that we had this unbreakable bond." A single tear slipped down Mary's cheek as they arrived at the restaurant. Marshall reached up and wiped it away. He wanted to find the man who'd caused her all this pain and hurt him. Instead, he told her what he thought she needed to hear.

"Mary, I'm sure your father loved you very much. Maybe he was afraid being close to you would put you in danger somehow. Maybe whoever he robbed that bank with threatened his family."

Mary nodded, then met Marshall's eyes. He could tell he'd restored at least some of her faith in her father. "Maybe so," she said, nodding. She wiped at her face, then, satisfied that she'd erased all signs of weakness, got out and headed for the diner. Marshall followed with a small sigh.

Over lunch, they discussed open cases, their witnesses, anything but the subject of Mary's family. She seemed to have resolved the matter in her brain, and Marshall was loath to upset Mary further than she'd already been.

After lunch, they visited a few witnesses. Their first stop was at the new apartment of an accountant who'd been unwittingly sucked into a securities fraud ring. They went over details and travel arrangements for his impending court testimony, then left. They were both happy to be out in the field and away from the mind-numbing paperwork they both despised, so they decided to check in on a few of their older witnesses, mostly just to keep from going back to the office. Their last stop was at Shoe World to visit Mel. Mary wanted to make sure Johnny Steele hadn't caused any trouble when Mel hadn't shown up for the meeting. When they arrived, the store manager told them that Mel's shift had already ended, so they headed for his apartment just as the sun had begun to set.

After several knocks on Mel's apartment door with no response, Mary grew concerned.

"Maybe he went out for drinks?" Marshall suggested.

"With who? His pals in Anarchy Unlimited?"

"Good point." Marshall said nodding.

Mary pulled out her cell phone and dialed Mel's number. After three rings, the call went to voicemail.

"Mel, this is Mary Shepherd. I need to know where you are. Call me as soon as you get this."

"No answer?"

"No. We should head back to Shoe World. Maybe someone there can tell us what Mel does in his off hours."


	8. Night Moves

**Author's Note: I 'm pretty sure I only have one more chapter to go after this, so I should finish just in time for Wednesday night's episode. Hope you all enjoy this chapter, and thanks so much for all the reviews and words of encouragement! I'm really glad you're enjoying it!**

Their visit to Shoe World turned up almost nothing. Mel apparently wasn't too vocal about his private life- a good trait for a witness to have, but not so great when he turned up missing. None of his fellow employees knew what he did after work, or who he did it with. The manager mentioned that he palled around with Johnny Steele when they worked together, but he didn't know if they were really friends. Mary got Steele's address before thanking the manager and leaving the store.

"What do you think a militia member is doing working in a shoe store in the first place?" Mary asked, absentmindedly.

"Employee discount on combat boots?" Marshall suggested with a grin.

On the way back to SUV, Mary dialed Mel's number again. Just as the call was going to voicemail, something caught her eye. Parked across the street where they hadn't noticed it before was Mel's El Camino. "Marshall!" she called, hanging up the phone and gesturing with her head.

"Mel's car? What the hell?"

"I'm getting a feeling Mel's not just out at a bar."

"What do you want to do?"

"Steele's address is on the way to the Freedom Corps' little club house. If he doesn't know anything about Mel, at least we'll be headed in the right direction."

Marshall nodded, already dialing Stan's number on his cell. "Stan, I'm pretty sure we've got a problem," he said to his boss. He filled Stan in on what they knew about Mel as he maneuvered the SUV into evening traffic. He hung up after Stan instructed them to be careful and keep him in the loop.

Johnny Steele's ratty double wide was situated on the outskirts of town. There was an ancient pickup parked to the side of the trailer, but it was on blocks and looked as though it hadn't run in at least a decade. When their knocking went unanswered, they headed out into the desert.

They arrived at the headquarters of the New Mexico Freedom Corps just as the last of the sun was slipping below the horizon. Marshall cut the headlights and coasted into the lot. He stopped the SUV between two of the buildings, hoping no one would notice it. They started their search in the small building where the meeting had been held. Marshall tried the knob, then motioned for Mary to follow him inside. The warehouse was a large common area with several doorways leading to smaller rooms. Mary spotted a faint glow of light coming from beneath one of the doors. She walked toward it cautiously, her hand on her gun. Marshall followed, wishing, not for the first time, that she'd let him go first sometimes. There were two men behind the door, speaking in low tones. One of them was Johnny Steele.

"He's in the old storage house. We never use it for anything, anyway. Dwight said it'd be okay."

The other man nodded grimly.

"I swear I didn't know he was a rat. He seemed to be really interested when I told him about us. Like he was really into the cause."

"It's okay, Johnny. You're taking care of it. Just don't let it happen again."

Just then, Mary's foot caught on something in the darkness and she went down on the concrete floor with a soft thud. "Shit!" she hissed when she saw the two men head for another door. Marshall turned back, unsure of whether to follow them or help Mary up. Finally he went to his partner.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, but I'll probably have a bruise on my ass tomorrow."

He hauled her to her feet, then followed the two men out the door. He could see them rounding the corner of a building that stood off from the others. He followed, Mary at his heels. He heard the door to the building click shut and tried the knob. He was surprised to find it unlocked, and went inside, holding the door open for Mary. He heard Mary with surprise and turned, just before something shoved hard against him and knocked him to the floor. He was stunned for a moment, but the sound of keys in a lock brought him to the present.

Mary was sprawled half on top of him, unhurt but pissed off. He realized that he had an arm around her waist and removed it before she could register what was happening. She looked down at him beneath her, making sure he was okay, then rolled off of him.

"God dammit!" she yelled into the darkness.

She thought she heard a noise, a slight moaning from somewhere in the warehouse, but before she could think about it, Marshall had grabbed her wrist. She gave him a harsh look before she followed the beam of his flashlight.

"Is that…"

The panicked look in Marshall's eyes cut her off. It was a bomb. And the red numbers, glaring into the darkness, were counting backwards from 50.

"Oh SHIT!" She yelled, yanking as hard as she could at the door to the warehouse. She looked back at Marshall, who was approaching the bomb. "Marshall, what are you doing? Help me get this door open!"

"They locked it from the outside, Mary. I heard the key."

"Maybe there's another door?"

"No time," he said, turning his flashlight beam to reveal Mary's frightened face. She was aiming her gun at the door and stepping back.

"Mary, no!" he yelled. "The shock from your gun could set it off. I think I can disarm it."

"You think?"

"If I'm wrong, are we really any worse off?"

Mary lowered her gun, relaxing only slightly, then walked over to her partner. Marshall turned back to the bomb, then began looking at the wires. The device was relatively simple, and he could see almost immediately which wire he needed to cut.

"If I'm wrong about this…" he started, but Mary pulled her to him suddenly in a tight hug before whispering, "I trust you" into his ear. He pulled away reluctantly, then took out his pocket knife and sliced through the white wire, wincing as he did so. He had a moment of panic as the numbers on the digital readout flashed three times and the timer beeped, but then the screen went blank and they were still in one piece. According to the timer, they'd been eight seconds from death.

"Marshall…" Mary started, tenderness and gratitude in her voice, but in that moment, he was all business.

"We still need to get out of here as fast as we can. I don't know how stable this thing is."

Mary was about to respond when she again heard strained groaning in the darkness.


	9. Partners

**Author's Note: Annnd we're done. I just hope no one shoots me for ending it this way. Love all the reviews, can't wait to see what you think of the end!**

"Who's there?" she called, shining her flashlight toward the sound. In one corner of the room, their witness Mel was chained to some exposed pipes, his mouth covered with duct tape. Mary ran over, pulling the tape off his mouth.

"How did they find out who you are?" she asked, urgently.

"I don't know. I never told them anything."

"If you're lying to me," Mary threatened through clenched teeth.

"I swear to you, I'm not lying. Please, just get me out of here. I really need to take a piss."

Marshall pulled at the pipe in the wall, but it didn't budge. "Sorry, Mel. You're gonna have to wait until we can get some chain cutters in here. Probably take another half hour." He looked over at Mary. "Let's try to find a way out of here."

"Hey, man. Can you help me out?" he called out to Marshall as they were walking away.

"Not a chance," Marshall called back, taking Mary's hand and leading her toward the back of the building. For the second time that day, she didn't pull away.

They tried several doors before finding another exit. Unlike the front door, it locked from the inside. Their captors had shoved a concrete block against the door in an ill-conceived effort to slow their escape, but it gave little resistance. They could see flashing blue lights from around the front of the building and walked around carefully to investigate.

Blue-and-whites and government SUVs were everywhere. Several hundred yards away, in front of one of the larger warehouses, Marshall could see Stan on his phone, pacing. The rest of the compound was crawling with cops and other marshals.

"Stan, over here!" Marshall called, hoping his voice would carry over the chaos around them. Stan hung up his phone, spotting the pair in the distance.

"Are you both okay?" Stan called to them as he ran over.

"We're fine, but there's a bomb in that building. I managed to stop the timer, but it may be unstable."

Stan reached them, noticing for the first time that their hands were locked together. He gave them an odd look. Marshall dropped Mary's hand and pointed back at the building, suddenly embarrassed.

"Mel's still inside. He's chained to some pipes and we couldn't get him loose."

When he looked back, he saw that Mary was looking away, also embarrassed. Stan cleared his throat, then continued. "I'll take care of it. We caught two guys trying to leave, but their truck wouldn't crank. They scattered on foot when they saw us, but we got 'em. They wouldn't tell us where you were. All they'd say was that the government had no business snooping in their affairs and you were getting what you deserved. We've been searching for you building by building."

Mary spoke up. "Thank God Marshall here read The Anarchist's Cookbook. Otherwise, you'd probably be picking us up in pieces."

Stan grimaced at Mary's unpleasant joke, then patted the taller man on the shoulder. "Good work, Marshall. I've already got the relocation authorization for Mel started. Go home. Both of you. Your official statements can wait until tomorrow and you've seen enough excitement for one day."

"Wait, Stan. We don't know how they found out who Mel is."

"When we separated Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum for questioning, one of them told us they overheard Mel talking to some cops about a group in Missouri he'd ratted on. They thought he was some spy sent by the government."

"Marshall and I followed him to one of their meetings," Mary said, gesturing toward the building. "We thought we were alone when we talked to him."

"You didn't do anything wrong. If he hadn't been here in the first place, there wouldn't have been a problem. Now, go. Get some sleep. I don't want to see either of you again tonight."

Mary nodded, far too exhausted to argue.

"Night Stan," his inspectors called in unison as they were walking away. Stan looked after them, the odd look returning to his face, before turning back to the compound. He had too much to do to think about why his marshals were behaving so strangely.

Marshall unlocked the passenger side door and held it open for Mary, knowing how exhausted she was. The pair rode back to the office in silence. The overload of adrenaline from their ordeal had faded, leaving them both too tired for conversation. When they reached the office, Mary reached into her pocket, then cursed.

"What is it?" Marshall asked her, confusion evident on his face.

"My goddamn keys. They must've fallen out of my pocket when I fell. I guess I can crash on Jinx's couch…" she started, then sighed. "But the family circus is staying there, so I'm sure it's already taken." Mary shook her head in disgust.

"I have an extra bedroom, you know?"

"But your dad…"

"Left this morning."

"You don't mind?"

"You know I don't mind. Come on, we can call Stan and have him look for your keys."

Mary was too tired to protest.

When they reached his house, Marshall poured them both a drink. He downed his in one sip, then grabbed something from his bedroom. When he returned, he led Mary into the guest room.

"Towels are in the cabinet if you want to shower" he said, nodding to the guest bathroom, then handed her one of his t-shirts "And you can sleep in this if you want."

Mary looked up at her partner a bit shyly, then spoke. "Thank you. For this. And for saving my life. Again."

"That's my job," he said, offering a sweet smile.

Mary smiled back, recognizing her own words, before noticing something on the nightstand behind him. Marshall watched her walk around the edge of the bed and pick up one of his family photos. Mary studied it. In the picture, Marshall was a teenager, and the two boys she assumed were his brothers were still children. Seth, whose hair had much less grey in it than when she'd met him, was standing arm-in-arm with a lovely woman with a mischievous smile. Mary felt both envious and affectionate toward the family in the photo. She wondered if she'd ever know that kind of happiness. When she looked back up at Marshall, her smile had become wistful.

"How long have your parents been married again?"

"Forty five years," he said, a bit in awe of the number himself.

"Wow. How did they meet?" she asked, pointing down at the photo. "Your dad never finished telling me the story."

Marshall met her eyes before answering.

"They met when my mother was assigned to the Houston branch of the Marshals service. " He paused, clearing his throat in hesitation, then looked down. "They were… partners."

When he looked back up, Mary's eyes seemed to be focusing on something in the distance, the way they often did when she was deep in thought. Her only response was pensive "Hmm."

A moment later, she snapped out of her reverie to notice Marshall studying her intently. She looked down at the t-shirt in her hand, afraid, suddenly, that he had somehow read her mind. He noticed the color rising in her cheeks and wondered what she was thinking, but she interrupted his thoughts.

"Well, I guess I'm going to take a shower and then get some sleep. I'm sure we'll be up to our necks in paperwork after tonight. Thanks again for everything." She treated him to another tender smile before adding "Goodnight, Marshall."

"Night," he said, glancing back over his shoulder once as he left the room, shutting the door behind him.

When she was alone, Mary looked back down at the photograph she still held in her hands and studied the teenaged face of her partner, gently tracing the outline with one fingertip before returning it to the night stand.


End file.
